Like Adam and Eve in Garden of Eden

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

Submitted: April 09, 2014

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Submitted: April 09, 2014

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I love yet hate at the same time, I don’t allow myself to think of you so I wouldn’t miss you, but then one picture of you, or one thought about you or memory of you and I and my whole universe shakes, the floor beneath me dances and my heart skips a beat. It aches so much because of you, yet it yearns for you, for your touch. I want to hold you so badly, feel your body pressed to mine, I want you to take off that veil that my heart put around like a frame, take that veil off and let your heart caress mine. I want your touch, your heart and your secrets. Everything that you are, I want. No. I need. I feel like a druggy; never let myself touch any kind of drugs yet once I inhaled a tiny amount of one drug by accident, or perhaps voluntarily? All I wanted afterwards is another meal, one after the other after the other. I never seem to get enough of it, of you. You’re like a perfume as well, a sweet kind of perfume that crawls beneath the skin once splattered on it. And just like you, you crawled inside of my skin from day one. And how the hell did I let that happen?

I let myself open up to the opportunity to get hurt, I let myself care too much but it never felt so wrong yet so, so right at the same time. The things I wish to do with you and for you are beyond any forgivable kind of things. Like Adam and Eve in Garden of Eden, they knew that it was the wrong thing to do, to get that apple off the tree and eat it, but they did it anyway. There were consequences; punishments. You and I are no different, we are the doppelgangers of these two sinners of Garden of Eden, we did the same unforgivable mistake they did; we ate that apple of the tree of desire and yearning, and for that we are forever cursed. It’s marked on our skin, streams in our veins and carved on our hearts. Can we control it? Don’t know. Should we try to? Probably. Do we want to? I don’t, do you?

 


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